


Fragmented

by emulikule



Category: Kingdom Hearts
Genre: Alternate Universe, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Romance, Short One Shot, Transistor - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-16
Updated: 2019-02-16
Packaged: 2019-10-29 15:25:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,822
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17810570
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emulikule/pseuds/emulikule
Summary: “I’m sorry, Sora,” the voice comes from the glowing sword once more. “I couldn’t protect you from them. Now look at us – a singer without a voice, and a bodyguard without a body. Quite the pair we make.”A lone figure traverses a once bustling city, now filled with only an occasional aggressive creature and scattered dead bodies. The sword by his side fills the silence as he hums along with the familiar voice.





	Fragmented

**Author's Note:**

> A short AU based on the game Transistor. Spoiler warning for its plot, though I did make liberal changes to it. If you haven't played it I highly recommend it, the fic will probably make more sense if you know what's going on in that game.

A crumpled body laid in front of him, leaning against a hedge decoration on the empty street. A body he was so familiar with, now lifeless.

 

“Don’t think about it anymore, just pull it out,” the voice he’s so used to says to him, sounding somewhat mechanic.

 

He hesitates for a few more moments, still unable to look anywhere but the scene in front of him. The sword in the person’s stomach flashes faintly as he hears what the other means to be words of reassurance, “It’s not me anymore. I’m here.”

 

Finally, he takes a deep breath and with his hands wrapped tightly around the hilt, he pulls out the weapon that is close to his size. It’s heavy, but there’s a lightness to it.

 

There’s no blood, neither on the semi-transparent sword, nor on the body. If he really wanted to, maybe he could convince himself that the other person is just unconscious. Would he want to do that to himself?

 

“I’m sorry, Sora,” the voice comes from the glowing sword once more. “I couldn’t protect you from them. Now look at us – a singer without a voice, and a bodyguard without a body. Quite the pair we make.”

 

The words are light, almost joking. Sora tries to crack a smile in this situation, pulling the sword closer to himself and wrapping his arms around it. He hums in agreement, that’s all he can muster.

 

“We should head out, who knows if they’ll come back to finish the job. Are you able to move with me?”

 

Sora pulls away and takes the sword in one hand. It drags on the ground as he moves, but he can manage. Again, he feels an odd lightness to it and without thinking too much he lets go of the weapon, watching as it sways in a slow pattern in front of him, listening to his hands like musicians to a conductor. It doesn’t stay too long in this state, though, and Sora puts his hand around the hilt once more and begins his trek down the empty street.

 

It doesn’t take long before something stirs around a corner, jumping in front of him in an aggressive stance. The white creature lets out a shrill noise, its body both mechanical and somehow organic. It shifts in one place, seemingly ready to attack at any moment as it focuses solely on Sora.

 

“Did they make the Process do their dirty work now too?” The sword in his hands feels warm. “Use me then, maybe I can at least help in this way.”

 

Sora doesn’t know if he would say anything to this even if he could, so he lets the sword do the talking. It’s easier than he thought it would be, the weapon does seem to be extraordinary in more than one ways. He tries not to think about the Process as a living creature, it’s more like a program that has just gone haywire, he tells himself.

 

He continues on, wading his way through the lifeless city, not sure if everyone is just sleeping or if something else has caused the eerie silence. The only sounds that keep him company are the echoes of his shoes rhythmically hitting the pavement and the scraping of the metal part of the sword against it. The familiar voice joins in, “I don’t think I’m alone in here. It feels like there’s others too, faint traces of them lingering at the back.”

 

Sora stops at the same time he hears this. Further down the street he sees someone else, lying on the ground as the Process saunters off in the distance.

 

“Is that…?”

 

He gets closer, but the body doesn’t move. A similar sight yet again.

 

“Move me closer, I think I can do something.” He does as he’s asked and the sword begins to glow brighter as he holds it over the girl’s body. It keeps this state for a few more moments before dying down to its original faint teal. “She says she was attacked by them, it was too sudden. She’s happy she’s not alone now.”

 

Sora hums as he gently touches the red “eye” on the weapon and feels like he knows this as well. She’s in there too, her information stored like a file along with what he could only call her soul, or maybe her heart.

 

_ >Function derived from contact with Subject. Trace data encrypted in Function. _

 

Kairi, a fashion designer who wanted people to be comfortable in their own bodies. Too bad she doesn’t have her own anymore. She was popular among lovers of warm colours and those who opted for comfort rather than the ever changing trends. Sora thinks he had seen her a handful of times at the galas and other big events, chatted with her even. A light voice ebbs through his memory along a floating laugh, but that’s all that he can find. That’s all there ever will be.

 

He hums a melody.

 

“ _I will always find you, like it’s written in the stars…_ ” the voice joins in, mumbling some of the other lyrics while occasionally finding the right ones. Their clumsy duet fills the night air.

 

_He hadn’t been at this for long, but people seemed to already love him. His choice for music at school had been met with questioning gazes and awkward attempts at persuasion towards another study, but now his music was met with open arms and hearts. People flocked to his performances and his singles stayed in the top percentages of the charts every time they came out. Still, not everything was perfect._

 

_He had never thought too deep into his lyrics, only pouring his heart out for what he felt at the fleeting moment and sharing that with others. Nevertheless, they found what they wanted to find in those words, citing that it was all the singer’s fault when during one of his performances a fight broke out._

 

_“It’s clear that he wants people to rebel.”_

 

_“Of course he’s inciting us.”_

 

_“He’s sharing these ideals with everyone.”_

 

_He hadn’t wished for this, any of it. The only dream that had been with him was one of happiness. However, the blame was his._

 

_The singer had disappeared for a time after the incident, the only thing left behind – his songs. He did come back after a while, though, with another person by his side to protect him if anything like this happened again. He was met with open arms yet again, but there was a clear shift in the theme of his newer songs._

 

Eventually, Sora reaches the parking lot, a row of bikes meeting him there.

 

“So will you skip town, head for the Islands?” the sword fills the heavy silence as he mounts one of the bikes and revs it up. “Just make a right down the road and we can leave all of this behind.”

 

The roar of the bike steadily changes into a background noise as the lights flash by, the city centre looming in the dark horizon.

 

“You turned left,” the voice notes. “Do you want to get back at them for what they did to you? To us? Or do you just want answers?”

 

He can’t respond, so he only clutches tighter at the weapon.

 

“Whatever you decide, just please, don’t let go of me.”

 

That’s the one thing he can fully give a promise to do, even if it is a wordless one.

 

The city centre, just like its outskirts, is void of life; the only thing greeting Sora intermittently is a flock of the Process, the white and red of it the only moving colour in this city. He takes a break as he sits at the patio of one of the cafes he used to frequent and rests his hands on the red “eye” of the sword.

 

Once he takes time to look closer, he can feel more presences inside the weapon. All of the ones he can find are the people who had gone missing during the near past. All of them well known figures amongst the people of the city.

 

The twins – one’s head in the clouds, the other with his feet planted firm in the ground. Ventus, a sky artist who disregarded the appointed limits and let his art be as free as him. Roxas, a kick-boxer who never stayed long in one place. The two had never been especially close, but had gone missing in a single breath.

 

Sora can’t stay for long, the city is becoming more dangerous with every passing minute, so he heads towards a place too familiar to him. At first there are only a few posters, mixed in with various other performers and advertisements. However, once he reaches the box office he finally sees the wall covered with his face – like looking into a fragmented mirror of himself, a moment caught still and never changing.

 

“You shouldn’t think about this,” the voice tries to comfort him. “Maybe we’ll be able to get everything back once we reach them.”

 

_At first it was only lingering at the back and watching Sora perform from the shadows. After all, that was his job – to protect him so that nothing happened to him. But the singer never let him stay backstage for too long. He would come out, beaming after a performance, and drag Riku to an after-party or some other occasion. He’d tag along, repeating to himself that this was his job, but somewhere along the lines of giving rides back to the singer’s apartment on his bike after a show and bringing his own rose or two as a congratulation, the bodyguard found himself getting attached._

 

All that is waiting for them at the concert hall now is a lone microphone and rows upon rows of empty seats.

 

Sora heads towards the docks, borrows a speedboat to help him get closer to the tower where he knows he can find some answers. Riku keeps on talking all the while, filling the silence that threatens to take him over.

 

Once docked, a door suddenly appears on one of the walls of the barren buildings, it’s bright light beckoning Sora to come closer.

 

Inside, he’s met with a simulated beach, the waves softly caressing the shore. An expanding dead tree offers its branches to take a rest and look at the setting sun that will never complete its job. He sees as the sword by his side begins to glow brighter before a figure he’s so used to seeing stands in front of him.

 

“Sora…” the other says softly, his body transparent with a bluish tint to it. A hand reaches out to him and he hesitantly puts up his own, but the two pass each other where they should have met.

 

A hologram, that’s all it is.

 

They stay silent about this, one because he can’t say anything, the other - because he doesn’t want to. The two, a person and an imitation of one, sit down on one of the dead branches and watch the sun set in a frozen state.

 

“I always imagined the Islands looking something like this,” Riku upholds his new position of filling the silence. He looks at Sora sitting right next to him, but he doesn’t try to reach for him again. He doesn’t want to remind himself that he can’t do that anymore. “Would you still want to go there together after all of this is over?”

 

Sora hums softly as he looks into the distance, a melancholic look dancing on his features. Riku shifts his head as well and looks at the horizon. His hand rests where it should have been atop Sora’s, but they only overlap now.

 

_They would sometimes spend their time watching. Watching the sky that would either change based on the people’s vote or if the sky artist ever dropped by, making something a little more unusual. The rooftop at Sora’s apartment was a good place for that. They would also people watch, taking seats at a café's patio that didn’t change as frequently as the other structures around it and letting the city life pass them by. Riku kept telling himself that this was just part of his job, to protect Sora whenever it was needed. He just decided that that would mean most of the time._

 

At Highrise, the centre of the city, they find a few more bodies. A fire dancer and a film-maker, the two close to each other. Sora doesn’t want to think what happened to them and lets Riku welcome them into the sword.

 

Maybe they’ll find someone they know inside.

 

_After one of the shows Sora took Riku to a banquet as his plus one. All sorts of people were there, mainly well known faces in the entertainment industry. Riku watched from the sidelines as Sora chatted with a fire dancer, his hair a clear indication to his profession if anyone needed one. The lanky performer eventually took his leave and lazily made his way towards an indifferent looking blond guy. He had been leaning against a wall, a drink in his hand and his attention on a dark haired girl. Riku recognized her as an up and coming film-maker, Xion. The reviews for her recent feature had mainly been “Unforgettable”._

 

_The fire dancer threw his arm around the other guy’s shoulders and laughed together with the girl. The trio looked happy and Riku suddenly felt like he was imposing on something that didn’t belong to him, so he found the one he was here for again. As part of his job Riku didn’t interact much with the others and just watched as Sora waded through all of them, seemingly brightening up the place wherever he went to, leaving smiles and laughter in his wake._

 

_After the party was over he took the singer home as had become routine, the smaller hands wrapped around his waist. Sora was slightly tipsy, but only enough to continue smiling brightly at him as he dropped off the boy, accidentally “forgetting” that he had lent him his jacket to fight the evening chill. The smaller figure waved to him, slightly leaning on the door-frame as he got ready to leave on his bike. The sleeve of the oversized jacket just barely letting the hand peek out from inside it._

 

Sora finds more people inside the sword as the time passes. Terra, an architect whose work never stayed for long in the ever changing city. Aqua, an activist whose words reached far and wide, but who disappeared without a trace in an instant. All Riku can do is keep talking, trying to fill in the silence.

 

_“You could try talking more, you know.” Words spoken absent-mindedly as the singer scribbled something in his pad, the two of them loitering in the dressing room. “After the show, will you come with me somewhere?”_

 

_Wherever you would ask. “Sure.”_

 

_It was late when Sora finally finished up, but that didn’t seem to deter him from whatever he had wanted to do. On the contrary, the singer seemed giddy as he navigated the city streets, Riku having let him take over the bike and just enjoying his time on the back-seat._

 

_He hadn’t expected Sora to take them to one of the many decorative pools in the city, its water faintly illuminated by the street-lights nearby and the few lights somewhere near the bottom of it. He wasn’t sure what Sora had wanted them to do here in the middle of the night but he hadn’t expected the other to just jump in, still with the clothes from the performance that had ended just an hour ago._

 

_Laughter and a mop of messy hair broke the water’s surface as the boy emerged and shot his bodyguard a cheeky grin. “If you’re against it, you should just say it,” the melodious voice beckoned him unknowingly and before the singer could revel in his antics Riku joined him in the chilly water, the droplets splashing everywhere and definitely causing a mess that the Process would have to take care of later._

 

_“You know this isn’t exactly legal, right?” Sora asked as the growing smile on his face threatened to leave permanent stretch marks._

 

_“I’m just here to keep you safe, not uphold the law,” Riku offered a smile of his own and decided to worry about drying off or heading home like this on a bike when the time came._

 

As they travel something suddenly comes over the sword, making the circuits decorating its insides turn bright red, the glow overpowering the natural teal light of the weapon.

 

“Wha… what’s going on?” the words come out slurred and slow, almost funny if not for the current situation.They stop mid sentence, like a glitch in a computer before continuing, “So-Sora, are you still there?”

 

Sora immediately stops in his tracks and crouches down to fully hug the sword, the feeling of distress written clearly on his face. A loud roar breaks the silence somewhere in the distance of the city and Sora only tightens his grip, his cheek pressed close to the warm surface of the weapon.

 

_Sora had been sick and Riku reasoned that it was still his job to take care of him even in these circumstances. It wasn’t anything major, just some food poisoning, but he stayed at the singer’s home, making him easy to eat porridge and listening to his stories as the other sat in his bed. He had already visited several times, roughly knew the layout of the apartment, but spending the whole day there felt different. He wasn’t sure if the place itself felt more like home than his own house, or if it was the person._

 

_He was reluctant to leave in the evening, though he knew he couldn’t show it, so when the time came he gathered his things and was about to head out. “Riku,” a quiet call of his name averted his attention back to the person now standing beside the bed, arms spread out and a gentle smile on his face. He didn’t think much, a habit he had noticed had formed once he had begun sharing his life with the singer, letting his body guide him towards the other and carefully embracing him._

 

_“I just wanted to thank you for taking care of me and being here,” he heard the voice, somewhat muffled from the speaker’s face being buried in his chest. He hummed in response, not trusting himself to say something coherent at this moment._

 

Sora finds one of the many news terminals scattered around the city, the information there dated and only updating the citizens about the upcoming vote for a new plaza construction that would take place over the old one.

 

>Are you okay?

 

Sora writes out a quick message in the comment section of the vote, glancing back to the sword by his side.

 

“Huh? You can hear me?” Riku’s slurred voice comes slowly from it. “I’m not just talking to myself?”

 

>No, no, I can hear everything you say and I’m so happy about it. But how are you feeling?

 

“Weird… Like I’m about to black out.”

 

>Hang in there, please. I’ll find a way to fix this.

 

“Okay… just… just don’t overexert yourself.”

 

Sora leaves the terminal, still heading towards the tower, but trying to hold the sword closer and keeping it from scraping on the pavement. The roaring sound gets closer as he makes his way through the city, eventually unmasking itself as a gigantic Process. It takes a while, much longer than the other creatures milling around the city, but in the end the boy heaves heavily as he stares into the lifeless corpse of it.

 

“I think I’m better now,” Riku’s voice wakes him up from his fatigue. “It was probably this thing that was messing me up.”

 

Gentle fingers rap on the semi-transparent body of the weapon, a silent acknowledgement.

 

There’s more of the creatures now, almost filling up the streets in the wake of the people and Sora makes his way through them. The news terminals spread the information about the incoming danger, but all of it seems too late now; no one alive is here anymore, only empty streets and a lone figure travelling through them.

 

_After a particularly lively performance the two of them headed back to Sora’s home, a bunch of presents in tow. Riku helped him carry everything inside, a huge plush mouse in his arms covering his sight and only letting him navigate by somewhat already remembering where everything was._

 

_He set it down in the corner near the bed, looking at all the flowers that Sora was trying to find vases for. His apartment was covered in them and the boy looked somewhat lost as he tried to shove more bouquets into a vase than it could hold._

 

_The people loved him so much, he was adored by everyone, you could see that after every one of his performances as they came to congratulate him, ask for autographs and tell him how much his music brightened up their lives._

 

_Riku bid him a goodnight after he saw that everything was mostly under control and headed towards the exit. Sora followed him out, their arms brushing in the narrow space of the hallway. Riku stopped to look back and say his final goodbyes to the person leaning against the door-frame, a routine that had emerged between them._

 

_“Thanks for the help,” he was intercepted before he could say anything. Sora looked tired, but the smile never left his face. Riku wondered for a split moment if that was just his natural disposition or if he always felt a reason to smile when the two of them were together._

 

_“No problem,” he said instead of voicing his thoughts. “The people sure love you,” he gestured to the piles of chocolate that were on the table near the entrance._

 

_“I love them too, that’s why I want to share my music with everyone.” The answer came in a partially bashful way, a dusting of red covering the other’s cheeks._

 

_“They’re very lucky then.” A smile played on Riku’s face, the bodyguard not being able to keep it in anymore as he looked at the other person by the door._

 

_He was slightly caught off guard as he felt one of his hands being taken by Sora. “I’m lucky too,” his voice was quiet, but it was all Riku could hear. “I’m so lucky to have someone like you with me.”_

 

_When he finally came to, Riku realized that he had begun leaning closer. “Can I… do this?” he asked, uncertain what he was even asking permission to do._

 

_Sora didn’t give him a verbal answer, but he felt the singer’s other hand on his cheek, warm fingers caressing his skin. The other person was shorter than him, it had been the butt of a joke between them for a while, so now he had to step on his toes to reach the already leaning Riku to give him a lingering kiss._

 

The news terminals became a way to send messages back and forth with the Organization. They say that they can’t control the Process anymore. The transistor, the sword by Sora’s side, alone can do it but only once it is put where it belongs.

 

“Then why did they attack you with it? Why did they transfer its ownership to you? Or was that just one of their many mistakes made that night?” Riku’s voice has lost its gentleness he had when talking to Sora as he spits these questions while the two of them get ever closer to the tower.

 

_He was supposed to be alone after the show, that’s what the information had said. It was supposed to be easy to integrate a young singer into the transistor. The info hadn’t mentioned that there would be another person with him, pulling him over at the last second and taking the blow from the sword which had already nicked the boy._

 

The tower is only inhabited by the Process and the news terminals, telling the two that this wasn’t supposed to happen.

 

The elevator ride is tense. “You know, every time I look up I don’t see the sky anymore. I only see you.”

 

_“Sora? Sora, are you alright?”_

 

_A distressed voice called out to him, the only sound in the empty street._

 

_“Sora, please answer. Oh god, please tell me you’re alright.”_

 

_He only saw a collapsed body by one of the many city decorations, a huge faintly glowing sword embedded through it._

 

_“Sora, is that you?” the voice sounded instantaneously relieved as he got closer. “At least you’re okay.”_

 

_The jacket that Riku had been carrying in his hand was now by his side, crumpled on the ground just like its owner._

 

_“Are you okay?” the familiar voice asked, but Sora could see that the body wasn’t moving anymore. There was nothing left there._

 

_With trembling hands he took the jacket into his arms and put it around himself. He looked at the weapon, still inside the other person._

 

_“You haven’t said anything,” Riku’s voice noted, and Sora finally let himself realize that it was coming from the weapon. He tried to say something, anything that would reassure the other person, but his voice didn’t come._

 

_“Oh no…” the sword flashed twice with the syllables. “I wasn’t fast enough, was I? I’m so sorry, Sora.”_

 

Everyone in the Organization is dead by this point as well. All but one who knows how to deal with all of this. They hitch a ride on a swarm of the Process and head back to where it all began, following the beck of the last person left alive beside them.

 

Everything is white now, stripped of the choices the people had made over and over again, changing the city in a never ending cycle. The Process is returning everything to its primary state, no longer helping to build, but taking it all down.

 

The man, the only one left besides them, tells them that everything can be fixed once the transistor is put back into its cradle. After that the person wielding it will be like an artist with the whole world as their canvas. They can create anything they want.

 

Sora puts the sword in, a voice reassuring him that they will see each other soon.

 

_Two people making a mess in the kitchen, their faces covered with chocolate and flour, but not enough to hide their wide smiles._

 

Sora wakes up inside a strange space, decorated by numerous transistors and vats containing the missing people’s traces.

 

_Two people leaning on each other on a lazy afternoon as one of them reads his new song lyrics and the other listens._

 

“Only one person can leave this place,” the man says as he holds another transistor in his hands.

 

_Two people riding a bike together, the noise of the city behind them as they enjoy each other’s presence._

 

He can’t hear Riku’s voice in this place.

 

_Two people sharing an ice cream on a sunny day._

 

He doesn’t want to fight another person, but he’s left with no choice.

 

 _Two people sleeping side by side_.

 

He looks at the man laying on the ground, his body lifeless and his yellow eyes staring off into nothing.

 

_Two people._

 

Only one person can leave this place.

 

_Two._

 

One.

 

“Sora?”

 

The concerned voice wakes him from his stupor. He’s still here, still worrying about him and not himself. He takes it out from the cradle and holds it as close as he can.

 

He now has the power to change the world, the only person left in it.

 

He finds the place again, cleans up the body from the lifeless white that’s covering everything.

 

“What are you doing? You know that’s not me anymore.”

 

Sora puts the sword down and takes his own place by the other body, leaning against it.

 

“Sora?” the voice sounds more frantic now, closing in on panic. “Don’t do this, please! Don’t… Please listen to me, Sora! Please don’t…”

 

This is the only time he doesn’t listen. He motions for the sword, like he had done so many times against the Process and against that man. The voice keeps pleading with him, hedging on complete helplessness.

 

He’s already made up his mind.

 

He wonders if the pain is the same as Riku had felt as the sword pierces him and everything gradually goes dark amidst the white of the processed world.

  
  
  


The sea-breeze greets him as gentle as the small waves caressing his feet. He smiles as he sees the other person, standing alone on the beach and looking at him, a myriad of emotions shifting through his expression. Sadness, hurt, pain, incredulousness, disbelief, all which lead to an eventual small smile as he manages to say, “Hi.”

 

“Hey.”

**Author's Note:**

> [Here's some bonus art if you're interested, courtesy of my good bro](https://twitter.com/ybbshieru/status/1095014835178401793)
> 
> Also happy birthday, Vika. Hope you liked it ;)


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